It's one more random than 10!
As I mentioned last week, Libby and I had some solo time together because The Lovely Becky had to go to conference. TLB was worried a little bit about how Libby would handle being away from her mommy and, more specifically, mommy's boobs. Libby is eating solids now and also drinks formula in addition to breast milk, and there were frozen bags of the real McCoy in the fridge, so the issue was going to be more psychological than physical.
The nights went by, and Libby and I did just fine. Sure, there were a few times when she attempted to lift my shirt, which I prevented lest it end in unspeakable horror. She also missed TLB at bath time—we do a little game every night where one of us chases Libby up the stairs as the other person carries her up for her bath. All in all, though, we just chilled out, played, ate, and slept.
I, however, really missed TLB. I love my time with Libby and we have a lot of fun together, but I found myself missing the three of us having fun. This will sound really cheesy, and it is cheesy, but we waited so long to have this opportunity that we cherish our time together as a family. By the time day three rolled around, I was ready for TLB to come home, not because I couldn't handle Libby by myself, but because I wanted to handle Libby with her mom around.
TLB asked every day how our baby girl was doing. While my positive reports were certainly a relief, I could also hear the disappointment in her voice, disappointment that Libby didn't seem to be missing her mommy more. Finally, when we went to the "airport" to pick TLB up, Libby spent the first minute gazing at her surroundings before finally delivering a much-needed smile to TLB.
"What's the matter?" I asked TLB.
"Nothing. I just wished she missed me a little more," she said.
"Yeah, but do you know how difficult it would have been if she had really bad separation anxiety?"
"I know, and I'm glad she didn't," TLB said. "But a little separation anxiety would be okay."
Funny how we were so focused on how Libby would adjust when it was us who had the harder time of it.
Okay, time for some music.
1) "Beat Connection," LCD Soundsystem. The problem with listening to dance music when you're not dancing is that you're missing the point of the music. There's lots to like here—bongos, blurbing synths, and cowbell—but it just reminds me that I'm sitting here in my sweats instead of jumping on a table and letting loose a vodka-fueled fusillade of happy feet. I have to give the kids in the video here some props for bringing the dance party home.
2) "You Curse at Girls," Fountains of Wayne. The liberal in me says that girls are entitled to be cursed at the way men are. The chivalrous guy in me says absolutely not. Sometimes those things are difficult to reconcile.
3) "Southern California Wants to be Western New York," Dar Williams. My experience in So Cal leads me to believe that Southern Californians don't even know where western New York is, let alone wanting to be like it. It's like the reverse image of the famous New Yorker cover showing the view of the country from Manhattan.
4) "Dancefloors," My Morning Jacket. I feel like I should be in an 18-wheeler listening to this, heading out west and getting into adventures. And I should have a monkey. And maybe a trailer full of females who are there of their own free will and just happen to feel more comfortable in skimpy outfits and tight t-shirts.
5) "You Can Have It All," Kaiser Chiefs. It turns out we can't. In fact, getting half of all seems like a pretty good deal these days. This is one of those choruses I usually sing when no one is looking.
Speaking of having it all and wearing sweats: The thing that almost always comes up first when I talk to someone about working at home is "do you work in your sweats/pajamas/hot pants/leather gear?" (For the record, I do not own either of the last two items to the best of anyone's knowledge.) Most of the time, the answer is no. I follow the same routine I used to follow when I worked in an office: up at the same time, shower, shave (usually), a bowl of Colon Blow cereal for breakfast, and too much caffeine. The only difference is that I walk upstairs to my office, I get to play music as loud as I want, I can go downstairs to see my lovely wife and daughter, and I know who to blame if something in the fridge is half eaten.
Today, however, I am in my sweats, because I can. And that's why working at home is awesome.
6) "I Know It's Over," The Smiths. Morrissey mentioned earlier this week that he plans to retire in a few years. That seems like it should be a reality show. What exactly would someone like him do in retirement? He could be out in the garden, watering his plants with tears of unrequited love. Trying to buy a box of Just for Men covertly but constantly getting recognized, not by kids, but by their parents who were big Smiths fans. Having Robert Smith over for tea and trying to out-morose each other over their approaching demises. That sounds less far fetched than giving a show to Poison's Brett Michaels where he tries to convince us that he's still sexy and not bald.
7) "Tonight, Tonight," Smashing Pumpkins. I know it's completely uncool to like the Smashing Pumpkins, the way it's uncool to like U2. But Siamese Dreams and Mellon Collie and the Infinite Album Title are full of the kind of big, anthemic rock songs I would love to play in Rock Band. There are already a couple in the game, but I really want the chance to screech Despite all my rage, I'm still just a rat in a cage at a frequency that causes the cats to run into the basement.
8) "Juanita," The Flying Burrito Brothers. Sad songs about drinking to forget...is there anything they can't do?
9) "All the Wine," The National. I talk about music a lot in real life, and it's not unusual to run into people in their late 30s or older who would listen to new music if they could find anything they liked as much as what they heard growing up. I understand the sentiment, and even though I spend a lot of time and money acquiring new music, it doesn't have the same effect music did on me when I was a teenager or college student. There are too many other things that occupy that happiness and too many distractions to make music as important as it once was. But it's songs like this (and albums like Alligator) that make me happy that I still carve out a space for new music in my life.
10) "Girlfriend," Matthew Sweet. On my Can't-Be-Overplayed list and a song that gets cranked to 11 whenever possible. The interplay between the main riff and the lead guitar, the sugar-sweet backing vocals, and the way it feels like great late 60s rock delivered with the force of 90s production always get me. Sadly, couldn't find the original, but found a revved up live version he played with John Hiatt.
11) "Comes a Time," Neil Young. Neil Young at his most beautiful and a wonderful way to head into the weekend.